


You'd look good in a skirt (for me)

by earthsmightiestdorks



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthsmightiestdorks/pseuds/earthsmightiestdorks
Summary: As Andy gets up from his chair after his last press this Wimbledon is over, he’s feeling undoubtedly sour. It might have been “just mixed doubles” but he still wanted to win, dammit, and he’s in dire need of a distraction. So he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his Instagram feed.A few hours later, Feliciano simply can't believe what he reads in the comments' section.And that's where it all begins.





	1. Beautiful...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarabandefive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarabandefive/gifts).

> Disclaimer:  
Fictional, not meant to imply anything about the people in the story. They are merely an inspiration for this. 
> 
> Basically, Andy has been going around calling Feliciano beautiful again and low-key flirting with him ("you'd look good in a skirt") and this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Andy supposes he should be happy, or at least satisfied. He is still coming back from a too long of a recovery period, going from not playing anything to winning a title to losing in the first round and having to face the reality that you can’t win all the time.

But as he is getting up from his chair after his last press this Wimbledon, he’s feeling undoubtedly sour. It might have been “just mixed doubles” but he still wanted to win, dammit, and he’s in dire need of some distraction.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his Instagram feed.

Feliciano doesn’t hear his phone buzzing from a notification, but that’s only because he gets so many of them whenever he posts something that a day after his latest post he is still kind of tuning them out. 

When he grabs his phone to check the time, there are two Instagram notifications from a certain _andymurray_ account. He clicks on the first one and does a double-take, except it’s more like four or five takes because_ what_?

It’s not that he isn’t used to being called beautiful by fellow ATP players, but that usually happens when it’s Rafa, who loves to describe people as ‘beautiful persons’, or because a reporter thought they were being clever and deconstructing paradigms or something by asking straight men to say which men they find beautiful. 

It’s usually _prompted_.

He doesn’t miss Marc’s comment, and it’s a stark contrast between his previous, regular doubles partner calling him ugly jokingly, like usual, and his recent, possible one-time partner who he low-key has a crush on calling him beautiful, _out of nowhere_. 

Again, it’s not that Andy has never called him beautiful, but that time he had been asked which player he would date if he were gay. And he had answered Feli, because he was beautiful, and also a fan of football, which meant they had a common subject to bond over. 

But Andy wasn’t gay, he was straight. Married with kids, the whole standard package. 

Sure, he hadn’t brought up the whole ‘no homo’ motto straight men seemed to brand when asked about a minimal interest in other men’s looks, but Feliciano had put that down to the Scottish just being very secure in his sexuality, and also to having been raised by the person who started the “Deliciano” thing herself. 

He stares at his phone for some time, without knowing how to respond. 

Eventually, he thinks of something he considers light-hearted enough and hits send on the reply.

Andy doesn’t know what he’s expecting to be Feliciano’s answer, but he’s quite happy with what he gets. 

He is already on the way back home, smiling like an idiot at his phone when he was sour just minutes ago after a loss, and it all looks suspicious enough for Kim to ask what he is looking at. He would rather just pass her the phone so he could keep thinking of a reply but she’s driving and he’d rather not risk an accident, so he explains it all and she laughs the cute, small laugh he likes so much. 

“The answer is clearly both,” she jokes, and Andy laughs loud and has to agree. 

Still, he doesn’t want to leave Feli thinking that he wasn’t talking about him, so he writes a text in hopes that they can continue talking - and, at least on his part, flirting - freely, in private.

This time Feliciano is quick to pick up his phone when he hears the message beep, and what he reads puts a broad smile on his face:

“_Kim said you both looked beautiful, but I think you looked just a teensy bit better than her._”

He’s still typing his reply when a second text from Andy arrives. 

“_Plus I reckon you’d rock that dress better_,” followed by a _winky face emoji_.

Feliciano is sure, for a moment, that he’s lost his mind. Maybe he drank too much, or ate too much, or watched too much football today because that can’t be right. 

He decides to go on like he didn’t just read that, if that’s even possible. 

Andy is sitting lazily on his couch, one arm over the armrest and he’s chewing on the skin around his fingernails, waiting for Feli to answer. When it comes, it’s a bit of a surprise:

“_I’m sorry you lost today, I was sure Serena was playing well enough to carry you like I did_” 

Andy straightens his back and focuses. He’s sure he can turn this in his favour, plus he needs to find a way to counter Feliciano’s sad attempt at comforting banter. 

He writes, and deletes, and writes and deletes again, and a few more times, and suddenly he’s pacing around, chewing on his nails again, his phone thrown somewhere among the cushions. 

He wants to ask Kim because she’s better at this than him - sometimes he still wonders how he got her to like him when all he did was shout on a tennis court and play videogames -, but she’s already sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake her up. 

And then it hits him. He moves the cushions around until he finds his phone and answers Feli with a proud grin. 

Feliciano has definitely, undoubtedly gone crazy. He’s lost his mind, for sure, because there’s no other explanation for this, for Andy to be obviously flirting with him. Because Andy is straight. 

And yet...

“_If only you had taken the hint when I said you’d look good in a skirt  
__Though it would probably make me double fault all the time,_” followed by a peach emoji. 

He grabs a beer from the fridge, deciding he’s way too sober, although perhaps he shouldn’t drink, because he is going to have to make a decision. 

What he does, instead, is down half the thing in one go. 

He leans over the table in his kitchen, spinning the bottle absentmindedly, reading those two lines of text over and over again. 

His thumbs hover over the keyboard, and he wants to reply, he wants to flirt back, but he can’t because Andy is married. (He’s given up thinking Andy is straight, and he’s getting his hopes up when he shouldn’t.)

He drinks more of his beer and thinks of how much fun they had on the court, how well they got along - have got along for so long, despite what British press says -, and how happy he became when Andy said yes to going celebrating with him and his team. 

He reads the earlier texts too, and his eyes linger on the one Andy said his wife thought Feliciano and his fiancee were beautiful. 

He sighs and finishes his beer, then settles the bottle aside, pensive. If Andy isn’t straight and is actually flirting with him, then surely Kim knows, right? She must know, he assumes. Those two looked like a perfectly happy couple whenever Feli saw them at Wimbledon. 

He grabs not one, but two more beers, and sits down. Ace comes into the kitchen then, and as he is petting his dog’s soft fur he decides to play along. Can’t go worse than anything he’s had to deal with before, what the hell, it might even be good. 

Ace whines when Feli stops scratching behind his ears, and he quietly apologises as he types his comeback. 

Andy is watching some football rerun when Feli’s answer finally arrives. He clicks on the notification and smiles to himself as he reads it:

“_I’m sure you would enjoy the view_” 

He mutes the TV and lies down, making himself comfortable. Feli was finally following his lead, and he was excited about the novelty of it all. 

“_Any chance you’d be up for that at the uso?”_ he asks, biting his lip actually thinking about it. 

He puts down his phone and looks up at the ceiling, and realises he’s feeling like a crushing teenager again. Which, fair, is half true at the moment. He can’t wait to tell Kim about it. 

His phone vibrating against his chest startles him, and he actually laughs out loud with the response: 

“_Andy you know I would love to but I don’t think they would allow it”_

Andy is biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from smiling too wide, even though there’s no one around to see it. 

He’s feeling his face heating up, but he feels quite confident when he sends:

“_Would love to wear a skirt, huh? Give everyone a nice view of those legs of yours_”

Andy has his eyes glued to the small screen, partially because, yup, he did just send that, there’s written proof, and also because he needs to know what Feli’s answer will be. He waits by playing with the sliding applications menu, going from one page to the next and back aimlessly. He catches Feli’s response immediately:

“_As long as you get to see them_”

He’s as red as a tomato, he’s sure of it. His mouth is starting to hurt from smiling, and the cushion he’s hugging is going to leave weird marks on his arms and he couldn’t care less because Feliciano is flirting back and it’s brilliant. 

Feeling particularly bold, he types his next move. 

Feliciano accidentally knocks over a bottle, luckily an empty one, and he’s cursing because he’s starting to get bothered thinking about what’s going on. When Andy’s latest reply comes in, it doesn’t help his situation at all:

“_If it’s just for me do I really have to wait until a tournament I’m not sure I’m even gonna compete in? Don’t be mean”_

There are plenty of reasons why he shouldn’t send what he just typed, and there are plenty of other reasons why his brain has decided he should, though they are certainly all alcohol-induced. 

He didn’t get to spend any time with Andy at Wimbledon, which was a real downer after Queen’s. Sandra has already left for her bachelorette party in Morocco, and he’s feeling quite lonely, but he couldn’t do his bachelor party with WTT right around the corner. 

He’s moved to the floor after the third bottle of beer, and Ace is sleeping with its head on Feli’s leg, and he feels warm as he hits send.

“_Come here tomorrow then and I can show you_”

He’s thinking that this is it, they are going to laugh about the silly flirting, Andy is going to wish him good luck at WTT, Feli is going to say thank you, and wish him good training in turn, and they’re going to follow their own, separate ways.

Except he gets an “_Ok_” back almost instantaneously. 

He stands up suddenly and Ace is looking hurt from being woken up but he’s not paying attention to his dog right now. 

“_Really?_” he has to ask because he still hasn’t abandoned the possibility that he’s crazy and hallucinating. 

Andy takes a while to answer, but what Feli gets is a picture of a plane ticket purchase order with no explanation other than a winky face. 

He really hopes at least one of his fiancee’s skirts fits him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E due to what's about to go down in the next chapter, in case you were wondering.


	2. ... is not enough to cover how you look.

Feliciano is currently looking at the TV and absolutely not watching it. His mind is running faster than his body ever could trying to get to a drop shot on time, and his hands insist on staying sweaty despite how much he is rubbing his palms against his jeans. 

Andy will be in his apartment soon, he’d sent Feli a message when he got into a cab at the airport. 

If Feliciano opened his mouth to let his thoughts become words, they’d most likely be only curse words, bad words, but he’s so nervous, he can’t help it. 

The intercom rings and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He can only answer in hums and ah’s to the doorman, but the man is discrete enough not to ask any personal questions and just send Andy on his way. 

Then the doorbell rings and Feli counts his breaths as he walks to get the door. Alright, this is it, he thinks as he inhales deeply and prepares himself to meet the man on the other side. 

“Hey, I, um, I brought beer?” says Andy, awkwardly raising to eye level a pack with 6 bottles and looking just as nervous as the Spaniard feels and Feli breaks down laughing because it’s still just Andy. 

“I’m glad you did,” Feliciano says with a grin, “because I think I drank everything I had yesterday.” He grabs the pack and hugs the other man with one arm, casual, friendly, and not at all indicative of the direction this meeting will go. But it’s enough for now. 

Feliciano steps to the side to let Andy in and signals for him to follow him into the living room. They sit on the large couch, strategically apart for now, and Feli gets one serving of beer for each. Andy is not looking at him, he’s in fact apparently watching a Spanish TV show he can maybe understand 5% of, but Feli doesn’t mind, he could spend hours just looking at Andy’s face in profile. It’s beautiful. 

But then he suddenly has a pair of deep green eyes staring at him, and he fights to not choke on the beer he is drinking. 

“Did you buy a skirt just for today or did you already have one lying around?” asks Andy, voice just a tiny bit altered, clearly making an effort to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Feliciano stretches one arm along the back of the couch and lets his body fall back, casually. He takes the mouth of the bottle to his lips and smiles against it, trying to look somewhat charming. Then he catches the way Andy's hand tightens around the neck of his own bottle, and how his eyes quickly flicker downwards and back, and considers his plan a success. 

“No, no, just borrowed one from my fiancee,” he explains. And then, just for good measure, “it usually looks flowy when she wears it, but on me it’s kinda tight.” 

Andy stammers, Feli grins and slides closer to him. But not enough to touch just yet. 

Andy coughs through a laughter, trying to downplay his pathetic - cute, in Feliciano’s opinion - reaction to what the Spanish told him. He sets the bottle on the coffee table and leans against the back of the couch, letting his laughing subside. “I honestly thought you would be wearing it already,” comments Andy. “Maybe even picking me up at the airport wearing it.” 

Feliciano tsks and shakes his head, pretending to look disappointed. “You asked for a private showing, didn’t you? I’m gonna have Ace do you company while I go change.” He gets up from the couch and makes his way to his bedroom, opening the door and letting Ace run to the living room excitedly. 

The last thing he hears as he closes the door is Andy laughing and calling his dog a Good Boy. He smiles softly to himself. 

“Andy.”

Andy doesn’t know, doesn’t really care, how long he’s been playing with Feli’s dog when the man finally comes out of the bedroom. He scratches Ace’s belly one more time before looking up at the other man who just called his name.

“Holy fuck,” he says, dumbfounded. 

He watches Feliciano walk his way, his chin dropped, his hands frozen in place. 

“Looks good?” Feliciano asks him, and that seems to kick his brain back to a functioning state.

“Yeah, it looks, it looks really good. Looks great,” answers Andy, and he raises his arm to take Feli’s hand in his and pull him to sit on his lap. Feliciano is completely pliant, just letting himself be positioned, and Andy kinda wants to scream, but he keeps it together. “Can I touch them? Your legs,” the Scottish asks. Feliciano nods. 

The skin feels softer than he was expecting, and it’s a nice surprise. The hair, too, is thinner than his own and it just feels really good to rub his thumbs up and down near Feli’s knees. Feli sets his hands on Andy’s shoulder for support and then lets out a content sigh, which in turn motivates Andy to go the next step. 

He slides his hands up until they reach the hem of the skirt and back down. He keeps repeating the movement, letting his thumbs brush underneath the hem every two steps, and when Feli squeezes Andy’s shoulders and bites his own lip, the Scottish boldly starts to lift the skirt little by little. 

Feliciano can’t stop biting his lip and it’s starting to get really distracting, so Andy decides to do something about it. 

“Is it okay if I ki-” he starts to ask, but Feli cuts him mid sentence with a moan and a plea. 

“Yeah, yeah, just, do whatever. Please.”

Andy moves closer to the other man’s chest and rubs his face against his tee. It smells like him. “I didn’t even say what I wanted,” he points out, looking up at Feli’s face and letting his mouth brush against the other man’s pecs. 

“I don’t care, just do what you want,” Feliciano says, and his breathy tone goes straight to Andy’s groin, spurring him on. He grabs the back of Feli’s head and pulls him down to smash their mouths together, finally kissing, and he has half a thought realising he’s wanted to do this since they went out celebrating their title. 

The angle is odd, their heights too close to have Feliciano kneel over him like he’s doing, but their hands move of their own accord to improve the situation, since their brains are too busy to process anything other than their mouths together. Andy slides the skirt up as high as it allows him, and Feli uses this new freedom to spread his thighs and sink down to where he wants to be. 

The new angle is excellent. Feli wraps his arms around Andy’s neck, one hand combing its fingers through the Scottish’s hair. Andy grabs Feli’s right thigh and left buttock and squeezes, potentially leaving finger marks. Feli pulls Andy’s hair in response and they moan into each other’s mouths. 

When they break apart for air, they’re both smiling and looking positively messy. 

Then Feliciano pushes himself forward to kiss Andy again, and the Scottish can feel Feli’s dick, hard and insistently pushing against his abs. It’s too much, for a moment, and he grabs Feli by the waist and pushes him off. 

Feliciano looks at him very confused, a little hurt, and Andy has to hold himself not to laugh at how much the other resembles a lost puppy. He sits near the edge of the couch and runs his hands along the Spanish’s legs. 

“Sorry, it was too much.” He looks up, apologetically. “I just wasn’t feeling like cumming in my pants.” He kisses Feli near his navel. “I can make it up to you, though.” His hands slide under Feli’s skirt and he cups the other man’s ass in his hands, kneading the firm muscle there. 

Feliciano whimpers. “Ah- please.” 

Andy gets up and holds Feli by the waist. “I’m gonna eat you out like you’re the last meal I’m gonna have,” he says against Feli’s neck. 

Andy doesn’t miss the way Feli’s breath stops, and he has half a mind to be a bit worried. “Are you okay? Can you walk to the bedroom or do you need me to carry you?” 

The teasing seems to work. “Hijo de puta, my legs still work,” Feliciano whines, but it’s light hearted and he’s smiling, turning around to guide them to bed. Andy slaps him on the ass as he does so, and it’s equal parts annoying and enticing. He flips his middle finger at the Scottish just for good measure. 

They tumble into bed kissing, their hands roaming everywhere they can, soaking in the new feeling under their touch, and for a while they stay like that. 

Then Andy starts kissing Feli’s jaw instead of his mouth, then his neck, then his clothed chest, until he reaches the waistband of the skirt and stops to look up. Feliciano is holding himself up on his elbows, his hands grabbing the sheets tightly to keep him grounded, and his eyes are wide, pupils visibly dilated even in the half-light of the room. 

Andy slides his hands up Feli’s chest, dragging the man’s shirt up until he can pull it off. Feli just lets him, too stunned to either help or hinder. Andy snorts and kisses him on the side of his mouth, quickly, just for reassurance. 

Then he scoots back down to crotch level and starts leaving wet kisses along the skirt’s waistband. Feli shivers when a breeze from the window blows exactly where Andy has just kissed. Andy grins against the man’s hipbone and starts slowly sliding his hands up Feliciano’s legs, letting his fingers brush his skin feathery light.

He reaches the hem of the skirt and starts pushing it up until it’s all bunched up around Feli’s waist, and the Spanish feels weirdly exposed in his white briefs with his erection tenting the front, right by Andy’s face. And then the Scottish does something that makes Feli believe he’s hallucinating again. 

Andy sticks his tongue under the waistband of Feli’s underwear, lifting the fabric just enough for him to bite down on it firmly and pull the piece down to Feli’s thighs. All while looking intently at the other man. 

Feliciano’s dick springs free, and he can feel precome leaking on him. 

“Carajo…” he lets out, barely audible, but Andy grins at him as he finishes taking off Feli’s underwear. 

Andy slides his hands up the inside of Feli’s legs, softly massaging the muscles, his touch a little too delicate for Feliciano’s liking. Feli grunts annoyed and Andy nuzzles the dark patch of hair at the base of his cock in response. 

From there the Scottish keeps caressing the inside of Feliciano’s thighs with his hands, circling his thumbs and pressing down harder when they move up near his crotch. Feliciano knows he’s being teased, in fact it’s obvious even for his clouded-by-horniness brain, but he falls for it all the same. He bites down a moan and fists the sheets, trying to keep his reaction down. 

Andy gently spreads Feli’s thighs and starts kissing the juncture of hip and leg, light, soft touches of lips that leave Feliciano slightly trembling. 

Andy looks up with his face smashed against the other man’s crotch and grins and bites down lightly, sending Feliciano’s head spinning. Feli takes one hand to his mouth and bites down hard, trying to suppress a surprised moan. 

“Let me know if you don’t like anything,” Feliciano thinks he hears the Scottish say but before his brain can even formulate a response Andy has his thumb stroking an area Feli is quite certain he’s never been touched before, because he would remember that feeling _ for sure _. 

“If that’s what I’m not supposed to like, I don’t even want to see what you consider good, I’ll certainly die of pleasure,” he mutters to himself in Spanish but it comes out loud enough for Andy to hear and stop his movements, looking at him worried. 

“Mierda, I didn’t say stop!” he adds hurriedly. 

Andy laughs openly and pushes himself up to kiss Feli again. “Then I won’t,” he whispers near Feli’s ear, his lips brushing against the other’s jaw, and Feliciano shivers. 

He goes back to stroking Feli’s perineum as he kisses down the man’s tanned chest, paying special attention to the other’s navel before dipping his head down and licking a wet strip on the underside of Feli’s dick, from the base to the head, his tongue flat and a little rough against the sensitive member.

Andy uses his free hand to hold Feli’s dick in place as he pays good attention to the head, alternating from sliding his tongue flat against it to circling it with the tip. When he takes the whole head in his mouth, Feli’s hands fly down and grab Andy’s hair, holding him in place. 

Feli didn’t even realise he’d closed his eyes shut, but when he opens them Andy is looking up at him with an eyebrow lifted questioningly and still with his cock in mouth. It’s such a sight that Feliciano shuts his eyes again and sighs before explaining; “Give me a second, please.” 

Then Andy grins and starts moving his tongue around defiantly, and Feli pulls his hair to get him to stop. “I said to wait, cabrón.” 

“Sorry,” the Scottish mutters muffledly, not looking sorry at all. 

Feli stops pulling Andy’s hair but he keeps one hand there so he can comb his fingers through it. It helps him calm down, and besides unless he’s imagining things he feels Andy leaning into the touch so it’s a win-win situation.

Andy starts to move his hand up until it reaches his lips where they close around Feli’s dick and back down in a moderate rhythm, while his tongue continues to explore the entirety of the head. Feli starts clenching and loosening his fingers on Andy’s hair in synchrony with the other’s experimenting movement. 

Feli is so lost in the sensation he throws his head back against the pillow and brings his free hand up to comb through his own hair. He’s too distracted to notice Andy has started taking more and more of him in his mouth. 

Then he feels Andy grabbing both his asschecks hard enough to leave finger marks and he lifts his head in urgence to see the other has completely taken him in his mouth and his grip on his ass is to stop him from thrusting up while his throat adjusts to the intrusion. 

Feli is speechless, staring at Andy with his eyes wide open and his mind a white noise machine. 

When Andy moves away to breathe, he leaves Feli’s dick completely drenched, the faintest line of spit running from the side of his mouth and stretching thin to the top of Feliciano’s cock. 

Andy closes his hand around where his mouth had just been and strokes the Spanish’s member vigorously. His free hand moves up to grab and squeeze the skirt, his mouth gets busy kissing, licking and biting the inside of Feli’s thighs, and it’s all too much for the Spaniard.

He comes all over his own chest, screaming what he guesses is Andy’s name distorted by ecstasy and his own accent and he holds onto the Scottish’s hair as hard as he can, because he needs to ground himself. 

He’s panting hard when he looks down at Andy, who has one hand down his pants and is still holding onto the skirt for dear life. 

Feli mentally thanks the universe and whoever may be out there that he has his athlete’s stamina working for him as he musters all the energy he can to pull Andy up so they can finally kiss again. 

Together they get Andy’s trousers and underwear out of the way and Feli wraps his hand around the other man’s dick, who cries in relief. Andy has his mouth against the side of Feli’s neck, mumbling whatever it is he feels needs saying, and his hands are almost crushing Feliciano’s arms with how tight he’s squeezing the man’s biceps. 

Feliciano is whispering soft words of comfort in Spanish against Andy’s hair while his hand works the other man’s aching cock. It doesn’t take long before the Scottish is losing it, spilling his cum over Feli’s fingers and both their chests, Andy’s still covered by his T-shirt. . 

Feli takes in a deep breath and falls back on the bed, letting the air out with a loud huff. Andy rolls to the side and lies down with his arms open, panting. 

Feli is the first one to speak, recovering a little faster due to coming before the other man. “I can’t believe you stayed with clothes the entire time.”

Andy snorts and curls the hem of his shirt, amused. “Bloody awful idea, if you ask me,” he says as he takes it off and throws it to the side without a care. “I hope you do a better job of stripping me next time.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t let me do any-” he’s halfway through his answer when Andy’s words fully register. “Next time?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face the other man, holding himself up with his elbow. 

Andy blushes and averts his eyes. “I would like to do this again, if you don’t mind…”

Feliciano smiles a broad smile that goes all the way up to his eyes. “Next time sounds really good. Deal,” he says, finally able to touch Andy’s defined torso. 

“Good,” Andy agrees, stretching his arms over his head, yawning. “Ugh, I really don’t want to get up to clean,” he complains and looks at Feli with an exaggerated pout. 

Feli shakes his head and laughs. “Fine, I’ll do it.” 

“Thanks, Feli.” 

Feli smiles lopsidedly and shouts back as he’s walking into the bathroom. “Just because the sex was so good.”

Andy hums and smirks. “Next time will be even better.”

Feli grins and turn on the lights, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s a mess, and he still has the skirt around his waist.

His fiancee’s skirt. 

He’s going to have to buy her a new one. 

And if maybe he’s getting himself a properly fitting one, nobody needs to know. 

He giggles to himself as he turns off the lights and goes back to bed with the washcloth in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing these two ♥ 
> 
> (Ugh I love Deliciandy so much)


End file.
